Déjà Vu
by The Lioness of Chestnut Street
Summary: Vernon Dursley doesn't believe in déjà vu, until he starts to experience it.  How will the man who had devoted his life to being perfectly normal react to news of his 'freak' nephew's role in the final battle?  Minor DH spoilers.


A/N: My friends and I are planning on rewriting the epilogue to DH, so I've been thinking about some of the more minor characters and got to wondering how the Dursleys would react to the news that Harry had killed Voldemort. As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.

----------

It had all started with the owls.

Vernon Dursley, a man with almost no imagination and no tolerance for things that could not be explained, did not believe in déjà vu. To his dismay, this did not stop him form having the uncanny feeling that he was experiencing it as he left for work one sunny morning in late spring, and saw the owls flying overhead. That in itself would not have been too unusual, as much to his dismay Mr. Dursley had become almost used to such things, and therefore was capable of dismissing them and going about his routine as normal. But when he saw the men in cloaks loitering around the Grunnings parking lot, it quickly became apparent that ignoring it was entirely out of the question.

After yelling at the security guard to do his job and get 'those freaks in cloaks' away from the employee's cars, Vernon spent the morning trying and failing rather miserably to keep himself from looking out the window. As such, he couldn't help but notice the crowd gathering in front of the bakery across the street, and after he'd seen that, not even yelling at everyone who crossed his path could put him in a better mood. For only the second time in his life, Vernon found himself wishing that he was imagining things.

Of course, after everything that he had seen in the last seventeen years, he knew it wasn't his imagination, and that made it far, far worse.

Those…_people_ (if he didn't think of them as wizards, maybe they would refrain from acting as such) in cloaks had gotten so far under his skin that he almost considered skipping lunch, a resolution that lasted two minutes at best. Trying his hardest not to look too nervous, he edged around the group and into the bakery, steadfastly ignoring any conversation they might have been having. Upon exiting, though, his mind on his pastry, he caught strains of their conversation, incomprehensible as it was.

"…the Elder Wand, the real one…"

"…Deathly Hallows?"

"…the three brothers, you know…"

"…Horcruxes? What…"

And then, from the black-clad woman who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere:

"…gone for real this time, Harry Potter killed him at Hogwarts, I saw it myself!"

At this there was an outbreak of chatter, which she quickly hushed. Vernon told himself to leave, that he didn't want to hear this, but he found himself just as much in the woman's thrall as any of the others. He didn't want to hear about the freak that had spent ten years under his roof…did he? The woman continued speaking, so quickly he almost couldn't follow.

"Alright, alright, but hush up, I don't want any Muggles to hear." When she glanced at him, Vernon pretended to be looking up a number in his cell phone, and she continued. "From what I can tell, he tried to kill Harry again-" There was _no reason_, he told himself, that those words should have made him feel worried. "-but for whatever reason it didn't work. So then they dueled, and they were arguing about something, I dunno what, and then they shot spells at each other, and You-Know-Who's rebounded and killed him."

The resumption of general clamor seemed to break the spell on Vernon, and he returned to his office, ate his lunch and mulled over what he had just heard. Surprisingly, this proved a more effective distraction than drills, and he passed the afternoon without noticing another owl. This strange oblivion continued on his way home and through dinner as well, although (truth be told) he probably wouldn't have listened to Dudley talk about the students he had terrorized that day anyway.

It was only later, much later, that he managed to work up the nerve to ask Petunia about it. "Petunia, dear…" He still wasn't sure quite how to phrase the question. "Er, have you noticed anything…strange, today?"

She launched into a description of Mrs. Next Door's row with her new son-in-law, and he barely noticed when she ended with the question, "Why?"

Trying to keep his voice light, he answered, "Oh, nothing. I just saw some things today that reminded me of-" his attempt at nonchalance failed "-seventeen years ago, and all of that."

Petunia turned away, lips pursed, making it quite clear that this conversation was over. Chastised, Vernon rolled over and fell into an uneasy sleep, but not before wondering if his nephew was okay. He quashed that thought violently. Why should he care about some little freak?

After all, Vernon Dursley was a completely normal man, and would do almost anything to remain that way.


End file.
